Chapter 7
Jeremiah
Time slowed as I watched Theo’s face cycle through what had to be every expression in his repertoire.
His eyebrows shot up. That was surprise, definitely surprise.
Then his eyebrows knitted together in what looked like confusion.
He was probably trying to figure out if I was serious or if this was some elaborate joke. Me asking anyone out was a plot for a bad rom-com. I might look like a model, but just like Twinkies, I was all soft and gushy on the inside. Creamy goodness be damned, I wanted this date. I barely knew the guy, but I really liked Theo and his dimples and the way his brow furrowed when he thought and those silly glasses that should’ve been contacts twenty years ago.
Although . . . he was hot in glasses.
I was so screwed.
Theo’s mouth opened slightly, then closed again. He did that a lot. Was he trying to find a polite way to let me down? Was he searching for the right words to explain that he was flattered butnot interested? Was he already planning his escape route back into the house?
I mean, he didn’t really need a plan. It was his house. All he had to do was slam the door and turn around. That would’ve been rude and mean, and none of that fit the guy I thought I knew, but still, it was possible, right?
Then his features smoothed and a tiny, itty-bitty, teensy-weensy hint of a smile curled one corner of his lips. Only one corner. Not the other. A half smile. A semi-smirk. Not even a single dimple.
Huh.
This was it. This was the moment where he politely declined, maybe made some excuse about being busy or not ready to date or just not interested in guys who delivered packages and made idiotic pasta jokes.
His glasses had slipped down his nose, and he pushed them up with one finger. The gesture was so familiar, so quintessentially Theo, that it made my chest ache. I yearned to see him do that again, to reach out and do it for him. Jesus, what was happening to me? What was I thinking?
I should leave, I thought.Right now.
“You know what,” I started, taking a half step backward, “I should probably—”
But then his lips finally moved, and the word that slipped free was firm, solid, clearly intentional. He actuallymeantit.
“Sure.”
Sure? He’d said sure? Not “I’m flattered but no thank you,” or “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” or “Please stop showing up at my house, you creepy penile delivery stalker.”
My heart didn’t just leap—it performed a full gymnastics routine, complete with triple axels and dismount. The Russian judge gave it an eight, but the others held up tens.
Stupid Russian and her stupid sensibilities.
“Really?” A grin spread across my face so wide it probably looked deranged, and I immediately felt stupid for questioning his answer.
But Theo was smiling, a soft, slightly shy expression that made him look even more huggable. “Really.”
Before my brain could engage any kind of filter or common sense, I shot forward, my arms reaching out, and gripped his shoulders.
And kissed him.
Right there on his front porch, with Debbie probably watching from the kitchen, I pressed my lips to his. His lips were soft and warm—and for one perfect second, the entire world narrowed down to that point of contact.
It was quick—barely more than a peck.
Then reality crashed back in.
Holy shit, what had I just done? Um, what was I still doing? I jerked back, eyes wide, probably looking more like a cartoon character than a dude who’d just won a date with the neighborhood hottie.
I’d kissed him.
